One jump took them to Trexalon, as usual bristling with warships. They didn’t bother landing, but simply skimmed from the gas giant Angbras, did their basic maintenance, and jumped out again. They had no intention of going to Pavabid, so jumped straight past it to Tarsus. Jesse Wales calculated the moment when they “passed” Pavabid in hyperspace, and the whole crew flipped the theocracy the Bird in defiance of their claim on the ship. 

Returning to Tarsus, the Long Walk skimmed at the Gas Giant Urfa, and headed in, picking up the news as they did. Flying over the continent towards Newland, the stigmata of war were becoming apparent; destroyed ranches, burned tracts of tanglewald. The news was all grim; the Nobble herds were more and more disrupted as the war went on, raising the spectre of economic ruin regardless of the outcome.

Walker in the Mist

Landing at Newland Down, they could see changes here too. Perimeter defences had been installed around the city, and in the distance they could see the huge striding shapes of walker vehicles patrolling. 

Their increased cargo of Nob Boost was snapped up by Hayden Poole, who still swore he was going to gamble on victory and an economic upturn - though his eyes were getting a little wild and desperate as the destruction ground on.

Leonardo's best attempt at a SF Brig, just barely resembles an older LBS.

A message was waiting for them from Ewing Hagman - now Colonel Hagman - who invited them to a meeting at his town house. There, he introduced them to Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, commander of the Tarsan army division engaged in this conflict. They had a problem and wanted the crew to consider trying to solve it.

Freelance and tramp traders had got to hear of the war, and many  were making money shipping supplies to both sides. This was normal, but recently the wilders had started getting hold of high-tech shoulder-launched anti-tank missiles, which could - and were - ruining a walker’s day. A Free Trader, the Black Egg - a Type A like the Short Walk - was shipping (technically smuggling) TL-12 Instellarms PZ-34 missiles and launchers to the guerrillas, and the Brig wanted them stopped. 

The pair were quite happy for the party to choose what they did; when Nevada and Feng very firmly ruled out intercepting the Egg in space they didn’t argue. Indeed, they had already ruled out using Tarsus’ own navy because of the negative effect on post-war trade of the world shooting down merchant shipping. The party fixed firmly on ambushing the shipment, ideally after the ship had left and before the wilders got away with it. 

The drop was being done (ironically) at the ruins of a ranch once called Cranstonstead. The army had some basic satellite scans of the site, but the party took a few orbits in the Long Walk and used its’ military-grade sensors to get a better look. Two small power signatures could be seen in and around the ruined buildings, but no sign of movement. 

Planning carefully, the party estimated the likely arrival of the next shipment, and submerged their G-Carrier - newly rearmed by the techs on Trensham - in a small lake three klicks away from the ranch. Several days went past with only fish to watch.

Tarsus/District 268/Spinward Marches, 171/1106

The computer in the G-Carrier pinged as it matched a search parameter in the system traffic feed from the starport, and the crew checked to confirm that the Black Egg had jumped into the Tarsus system and was skimming for fuel. 

Tarsus/District 268/Spinward Marches, 175/1106

Lifting to turret depth, Feng and Wombat floated out on grav belts, and the four shadowcats cleared the space between vehicle and bank in one bound and vanished into the trees. The Black Egg was one day from orbit, and it was time to set the ambush.

Feng set herself up with a good view of the approach road, while Wombat was on the other side, with a good sniper’s eye view of the centre of the ranch. The cats were scattered through the trees, their stealth surfaces making them practically invisible. Their sensor telemetries were multiplexed to the ‘Carrier, allowing each PC a 4-split window of the cats’ viewpoints.

A couple of hours later, a convoy appeared, approaching down the road. There were four civilian lorries and a command car, all wheeled. The car had some kind of fusion weapon mounted in a cupola at the front and combat armour for its crew; mercenaries, probably. 

Ruins of Cranstonstead

The vehicles drove into the ruins and spread out, showing at least some military nowse. Some soldiers started unloading grav trollies while others activated the robot loader that had been one of the power signatures and others brought up the mobile fusion generator and activated the perimeter sensors scattered in a rough ring around the site. Wombat twitched; one was dangerously close to his position but did not detect him.  The mercenaries lounged dangerously in their vehicle and did no work.

Shortly, a shadow passed over the ruins and a Type A free trader settled down into the cleared space to the east. The ramp opened, and a crewman emerged to talk to an obvious officer from the uniformed soldiers. Feng marked him out with a grin. Cash clearly changed hands; not what was expected. The Brig had believed the wilders were trading poached Nobble for the guns. That done, the soldiers plied the robot and trollies and unloaded boxes of launchers and rockets from the ship and into the lorries. The ambushers held off, waiting for the ship to leave.

Unfortunately, it was the lorries that set out first, the officer riding on the footplate to supervise picking up the men shutting down the sensors and robot. As the command car and first lorry returned to the road, Feng lined up the officer and spread his brains all over the cab through the open window with a heavy laser bolt. 

Chaos ensued. The vehicles scattered off the road, the merc car heeling hard over as it turned to try and bring its’ weapon to bear. Wombat fired his sniper gauss at the driver of the lead lorry, but missed. The deafening clang of the big round tearing through the metal cab at hypersonic speed had a terrible effect on his driving however. Feng fired again at the merc gunner, but his armour deflected most of the shot. 

Back at the lake, Wales gunned the G-Carrier and lifted it out of the water - clipping an underwater tangletree stump as he did so. Nevada cursed as the view through his sights veered violently. “Cats!” he snapped, “disable those lorries!” Barely-seen blurs whipped through the trees, and precise laser fire tore chunks out of the transmissions; the lorries stopped. 

The last two mercenaries suddenly vanished, torn from their feet and ripped apart by the terrifying shadowcats. This was too much for the local troops and the five survivors threw down their weapons and raised their hands. 

They were rather bewildered when - the shipment completely destroyed - the G-Carrier lifted off, picked up Wombat, Feng and the cats from the far side of the ruins, and vanished into the west. “They’ve seen this vehicle,” someone pointed out. “Who cares?” said Nevada blithely. “It’ll be a different colour tomorrow.”